


Without Redress

by tenrousei_kuroi



Series: Our Friend Fenrir Greyback [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (that's right I do commissions), Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempting a personality for Fenrir, Blood and Violence, But we're not trying to excuse anything here, Dirty Talk, F/M, Female Player Character (Hogwarts Mystery), Greyback likes to pretend he's classy, Het and Slash, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, M/M, Male Slash, Non-Canon Relationship, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Stockholm Syndrome, Underage Rape/Non-con, Video Game: Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery, commission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 05:53:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26348167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenrousei_kuroi/pseuds/tenrousei_kuroi
Summary: Fenrir is newly recruited by the Dark Lord and his lackeys. One Death Eater in particular rubs the werewolf the wrong way, and if he can't have respect, he'll set about constructing the fearsome visage he'll need to command fear. Greyback wiles away the hours at Lestrange Manor, enjoying his newfound freedom and using the opportunity to take proxy revenge on the two men who wronged him. In between playing with his new chew toys, he finds the time to grow into his new life as a werewolf, eager for the day when Augustus Rookwood realizes what a powerful enemy he's made.
Relationships: Augustus Rookwood/OFC, Fenrir Greyback/Barnaby Lee, Rabastan Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange, Regulus Black/Fenrir Greyback, Regulus Black/Rodolphus Lestrange
Series: Our Friend Fenrir Greyback [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930915
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. Hotel Lestrange

**Author's Note:**

> A pseudo-prequel to Recompense, although I put in little effort to make sure everything lines up perfectly with that one. It's more or less the same basic plot.
> 
> Set during the last days of the First War (with a slightly compressed timeline in order to get Hogwarts Mystery characters to an older age while there are still active Death Eaters running around).
> 
> This one's a commission, thus proving how I can horribly mangle other people's ideas, as well! <3

“A _werewolf?_ ” Greyback still flinched at the title, even after several months of trying to adjust to his new lot in life.

“Yes, Rabastan,” Augustus Rookwood said, sneering as he closed in on the boy. He twined his fingers on Rabastan’s shoulder and slowly circled around him like a hawk, whispering, “A big scary wolf has come, and when he gets hungry, you just might be first on the docket...”

Rodolphus Lestrange, who’d been lounging against the wall of his parents’ sitting room, leaned forward. “Enough, Rookwood,” he snapped. “Rabastan,” he added in a tone only slightly softer. “Go to your room.”

But Rabastan refused. Never quite taking his eyes off Greyback, who was sitting on the couch, uncomfortable and out of place, Rabastan addressed his brother. “No, you can’t just send me away. I deserve to know what’s going on in my home.”

“ _Your_ home?” Rookwood squealed. His kitschy laugh grated on Greyback’s newly sensitive ears. “Rodolphus, are you listening to that brat of yours? Mummy and Daddy aren’t yet cold in their graves and suddenly the manor is _his_!”

“Rabastan, _go_.” Rodolphus pulled his brother by the arm and sent him from the room with whispered threats of corporal punishment.

Rookwood’s gaze followed Rabastan from the room for a little too long and Rodolphus, a man whom Greyback was beginning to recognize as either secretly very fraternal or else unpleasantly possessive, curled back his lips in distaste.

“ _Rookwood,_ ” he said aggressively. “Don’t we have work to be doing?” He motioned loosely to where Greyback sat and the werewolf swallowed nervously.

“Please, Lestrange,” Rookwood said, rolling his eyes. “Spare me your lectures. The Dark Lord has gifted us a pet dog, there’s not much more to it than that. I _think_ I can handle the situation.”

“You’re not the one in charge of keeping him on a leash,” Rodolphus countered. Although he was speaking to Rookwood, his eyes never left Greyback. “Well, Wolfy, is it true? Have you joined our...sordid little team?”

Greyback steeled himself. This was no time to let his insecurities show. He shrugged, doing his best to seem nonchalant. “I see no reason not to consort with the winning side, even if they do seem to be...” he glanced critically up and down Rookwood’s tall body. “Amatorculists at best.”

Rookwood laughed again, that high, unappealing sound that made Greyback unconsciously grind his teeth. “Do you hear that?” Rookwood asked of Rodolphus. “The mutt means to call us amateurs. What’s the matter, puppy dog, is it too hard to talk around those big ugly fangs?”

Greyback snarled. “No, I meant the word that I said, you uneducated—” but Greyback stopped himself. As obnoxious as he was, Rookwood seemed to hold some favor with the Dark Lord, and Greyback was unwilling to get himself in too much trouble until he knew how much danger he was in. Agreeing to...contract with these people (for lack of a better word) was a risky decision. Yet with his new-found _lunar_ proclivities, it seemed the safer choice.

“Lestrange, show me which room is mine. It’s been a long day and I’d like to go to bed,” Greyback sighed.

“They say you managed to graduate from that joke of a school they’re running up in Scotland these days,” Rookwook clipped. “Of course, I suppose you were almost human for most of your time there. Tell me, were you always so dim, or was it just from your wolf bite? Could you feel your magic draining from you when that beast’s saliva worked its way into your veins?”

Greyback whipped around. “Keep testing me and you’ll see how much of my magic I still have, Rookwood.”

“Greyback, come this way,” Rodolphus took him by the forearm, seeming weary at the thought of Rookwood causing any more trouble today. “If you’re to be staying here for a month you might as well be comfortable. I’ll show you to your room...”

“Bye, bye, doggy,” Rookwood waved as Greyback reluctantly let himself be led away.

“Lower your hackles, Wolfy,” Rodolphus clipped as he pushed Greyback down the hall. As they passed by a room on the second floor, Greyback was sure he saw Rodolphus’s seventeen year-old brother poke his head out briefly.

Greyback bristled at the nickname, but couldn’t summon the same rage he had for Rookwood. Perhaps it was just Rodolphus’s station, but the man seemed less condescending somehow. Greyback pried his arm free and fell into step with Rodolphus as they walked through the large mansion.

“Your parents did well for themselves, then,” Greyback commented gruffly as they passed over a hand-knotted Asian rug.

Rodolphus at last stopped in front of the last door in the east wing and threw it wide open, indicating that Greyback should go inside. “I can’t tell if you’re making a piss-poor attempt at conversation or if you’re somehow unfamiliar with my family.”

Greyback stepped cautiously into the room. It was a guest room, all right. As gloriously decorated as the rest of the home but largely lacking in the personal affects that would have pegged it for a room in use. Everything was just a bit too clean for Greyback’s taste. He felt a little uncomfortable.

“I’ve never met a Lestrange before. Well, aside from a glimpse of your brother underneath that Sorting Hat all those years ago.”

Rodolphus lounged easily in the doorway, amused at the starstruck look on Greyback’s face as he took in the sheer size of the guest room.

“Well how about a Black?”

Greyback bristled. “I’m acquainted with Orion, yes.”

“Ah,” Rodolphus crooned smugly. “That’s right, he was the one who...took notice of you, wasn’t it?”

“If by ‘took notice’, you mean overheard my idiot brother blabbing to a Ministry friend that I was in St. Mungo’s with a werewolf bite and then having me dragged into Lee’s office to be _tagged_ before effectively exiling my whole family from anything even remotely social...then yes,” Greyback said bitterly. “That’s exactly who that was.”

Rodolphus laughed shortly. “That’s right, I imagine old Lee is giving you quite a bit of trouble, isn’t he?”

“Do I look like I want to talk about it to you?” Greyback hissed. Rodolphus held up his hands.

“And here I thought you’d have grown some manners since graduation.”

Greyback sighed but didn’t rise to the bait. Though less than three years, his Hogwarts days seemed decades away, and he didn’t like to think about the opportunities he’d been promised. Jobs, connections and relationships that were surely beyond him now. Nothing left but a dull, bitter ache.

“You know, Wolfy,” Rodolphus continued slickly. “Orion’s son is one of us.”

“Sirius?” Greyback asked stiffly. The Black heir had been a year or so below him in school and he’d not been fond of the brat to say the least. Part of him bristled. Perhaps he should have asked for a roster before signing up to work with these lunatics.

“No, moonbreath, the little one. _Regulus._ ”

Greyback conjured some vague memories of a Slytherin first year. “I guess that makes more sense,” he admitted. “So what?”

Rodolphus rolled his eyes. There was a lack of ease about Rodolphus’s face and demeanor whenever he behaved improperly. Greyback wondered if Rodolphus had ever been so snarky before his parents died.

“I’m merely suggesting that if you feel like getting a little... _revenge_ , the brat’s a painfully easy target. And hopelessly fun to torment.”

“You sound like you speak from experience,” Greyback said, narrowing his eyes. He stood awkwardly in the grandiose guest room, waiting longingly for the moment Rodolphus would leave him alone so he could drop his guard. “And what makes you think I’d be interested in such activities?”

“You’re a monster now, don’t you remember, Greyback?” Rodolphus gestured towards Greyback’s chest where, currently covered by his robes, there ran a dozen or more cicatriced patches of marred skin. Greyback unconsciously raised a hand to his breast, remembering the upsetting moment in Lee’s office where he’d been stripped barechested, his every mark cataloged. And then to have been asked by the Dark Lord himself...all the curious eyes and prying hands asking to _show us...come now…_

“So a ravenous revenge spree seems in your nature. Besides, what use will you be to the Dark Lord if you haven’t honed your bloodlust yet?”

Greyback snarled at the word ‘nature’ and Rodolphus laughed again.

“It’ll be good practice for you, and besides, it’ll be a short while before you can get your hands on what the Dark Lord’s promised you.”

“How do you—”

“I’m not _blind_ , Wolfy. And the Dark Lord and I talk frequently. We’ve more meetings than the ones you’ve been privy to, you know. Meetings for _real_ Death Eaters. He did promise you Lee’s nephew, no? So I’m not wrong? You’ve revenge on the mind.”

Greyback bit back his retort. He wanted Rodolphus to leave him be.

“Regulus will be stopping by tomorrow evening for a short stay while his parents are gone. All I ask is that you leave him in one piece because I’ve still some use for him yet.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Greyback asked before he could stop himself. Internally he kicked himself. Rodolphus had spoken as though he meant to leave and here Greyback had lured him back into conversation.

“What?” Rodolphus asked, genuinely curious. “He’s a good boy, really, and his parents don’t care as long as there’s no permanent harm.”

Greyback bared his teeth, remembering Orion Black. “No shit his parents don’t care for anything. I’m talking about that older brother of his. Do you really think Sirius Black needs any more reason to come tear your throat out?” Greyback remembered the older Black being nothing if not combative, possessive and recklessly loyal.

“Let him try,” Rodolphus mused lazily. “And besides, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. And Regulus, weak as he is, is far too proud to go crying to that blood traitor brother of his.

“Night, night, Wolfy. Try to calm your temper. Rookwood will be back in the morning with some agendas. And do work on that snarl of yours. It’s the farthest thing from threatening.”

* * *

Greyback fell into place at the Lestrange’s more quickly than he would have liked to admit. When Rodolphus left him alone that first night, he found comfort in his amenities swiftly, and after several rounds of practice snarls in the mirror, he fell to sleep without a struggle, as though the bed had always been his.

True to Rodolphus’s word, they were joined the next evening by Rookwood (late as usual) and Regulus Black. Greyback was taken aback when the younger Black heir stepped through the fireplace—at just how much he’d grown to look like Sirius.

“So glad you found your way,” Rodolphus said coolly as Regulus set his bag down in the hall. “Oh by the way, Wolfy’s staying in the room you usually use, so why don’t you just bunk with me for now, hm? Third door on the right, you know the way,” Rodolphus ushered a cringing Regulus out into the hall before returning to the drawing room to address Rookwood.

“And your news?” he asked dully. Greyback had gotten the distinct impression that Rodolphus looked down on Rookwood, and perhaps that he didn’t quite trust him. The man was a Ministry official, after all, and had maintained thus far a pretty good pretense of still being a “good guy”. Greyback had to wonder if Rodolphus doubted Rookwood’s loyalty to their cause. For his part, Greyback couldn’t care one sot if the Dark Lord ended up dead in a ditch somewhere along with all his friends, but he couldn’t pretend to be too fond of anyone on the opposing side, either.

Rookwood carded his dark hair from his eyes. “Rosier is with us now. He’ll be joining us next Saturday at Lucius’s place where we can discuss further how the Dark Lord plans to bring down the Ministry.”

The name Rosier meant nothing to Greyback, but Rodolphus nodded contentedly. “Like he was ever going to resist,” he said. “But surely you didn’t come all the way here just to tell me _this_ joyous news.”

Rookwood smiled devilishly. “Actually I wanted to talk to our dear lupine friend a little bit. The Dark Lord may have some use for him soon.”

“And he couldn’t tell me himself, why?” Greyback snapped, in no mood for Rookwood’s taunting.

“Perhaps because it is the Dark Lord’s privilege to delegate the less than pleasant conversations such as this one. He cares little for whether or not _I_ have to take in your rotted stench for more than an hour.”

Greyback nearly leaped forward, but Rodolphus caught him.

“Lord,” Rookwood grimaced, actually stepping back a foot or two. “How far from the full moon are we, anyway?” he demanded.

“Two weeks,” Rodolphus snipped, still holding tightly to Greyback by the shoulders. “And we’re more than equipped here to—”

But Rookwood was pointing in awe at Greyback’s mouth, which the younger man moved quickly to cover with his hands, twisting out of Rodolphus’s grip as he did so.

“You’d best check your lunar calendar again, Rodolphus,” Rookwood said as Rodolphus pulled Greyback’s hands away to marvel at the fangs protruding roughly from his jaw. “Just look at those eyes, too...”

Greyback couldn’t see his own eyes, but he could feel a tightness around them, as though some area of flesh had stretched beyond what a human face would normally allow. Things looked...a bit slanted.

But only for a moment. As he shrank back from Rodolphus—a part of him genuinely afraid that the two Death Eaters might attack—he felt his face loosen again, and the uncomfortable, jutting teeth were suddenly gone.

“How the fuck did you do that?” Rookwood asked. “You’re not supposed to change in broad daylight!”

Rodolphus smiled. “Come now, Rookwood. The Dark Lord has more taste than you give him credit for.” He turned to face his fellow Death Eater, one hand laying almost protectively on Greyback’s shoulder. “Of course he would recruit a werewolf with a bit more... _gusto_ than the rest.”

Rookwood shook his head in disbelief and made a scathing remark about sleeping under the same roof as Greyback.

“We’ll be fine, and you’re not welcome to join us here even if you wanted to,” Rodolphus said. “Now,” he pushed Greyback lightly away. “You were saying?”

Rookwood paced back over to the fireplace and idly plucked at the trinkets on the mantle. Rodolphus glared at his audacity. “I _said_ that the Dark Lord has a favor or two to ask of our little werewolf friend here. A super important _mission_ , if you will.”

“Don’t patronize me,” Greyback spat.

Rookwood rolled his eyes. “Calm down. All right, I’ll cut to the chase. The full moon is in two weeks, no?”—Greyback nodded, suspicious—“Well there’s someone the Dark Lord would like you to pay a visit to. Or rather, he’d like you to make the acquaintaince of their child...”

Greyback paled slightly. He’d known that the Dark Lord would likely require him to kill people, but he’d not expected his first target to be...well…

“Oh you won’t be eating anyone,” Rookwood assured him. “That’s no fun. The parent loses their child, they _sob_ , they _grieve,_ and then they get over it. Ha! Useless. No, you’re going to just give them a little bite, that’s all!”

This wasn’t any better in Greyback’s opinion. “Might as well kill the brat,” he said grimly.

“Enough of your opining. The Dark Lord has found the perfect use for you, Greyback, to keep people in line. To convince people to see the logic in his side of things. After all, the threat of a leashed werewolf coming down on your _child,_ condemning them to a life of misery, violence, and—”

“I _get_ it,” Greyback yelled. “So who’s the unlucky family that got stuck being the Dark Lord’s example?”

Rookwood shrugged. “You’ll know in two weeks when we lead you there. Just picture it, Wolfy, you and I, stalking a child through the shadows, ever so quiet, until I slip off your muzzle—just for a moment—and you leap out to do your thing. I suppose it will be up to me to make sure you don’t actually eat the kid whole. That’s not the plan, after all.” Rookwood raised a hand to his chin in mock thought. “Come to think, this may take a few tries before we get it right. I’ll have to make sure the Dark Lord knows this may be a trial run...”

Greyback was seething. Every bone in his body was screaming to tear Rookwood’s lungs out. But then his bloodlust subsided, to be replaced by a burgeoning feeling inside him...the desire not to kill Rookwood, but to put him in his place, to—Greyback supposed the word he was looking for was _dominate._ He didn’t want Rookwood dead...he wanted him scared.

And so Greyback relaxed and took Rookwood’s verbal abuse in stride. He would, he decided, have his day.

* * *

Greyback’s prize was to be delivered to him _before_ his first mission. A frustrating choice made by the Dark Lord, no doubt to test Greyback, or to teach him control, or some other such infuriating power move. For the very same night that Regulus Black came to stay at Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange’s manor, two teenagers were delivered, as well.

Barnaby Lee, the nephew of Greyback’s _beloved_ werewolf controlman, had been an easy catch. His father, after all, was one of the Dark Lord’s closer confidants. Greyback wondered how much resistance there had been. Had Barnaby’s father argued against this? Likely not, Greyback was well aware that Barnaby’s uncle was more fond of the boy than his father had ever been. That’s why he had chosen him as a target in the first place.

But had the boy’s father resisted at all? Greyback briefly speculated about Barnaby’s mother, and whether or not she had been informed or was being kept in the dark about her child’s disappearance. He knew nothing of the woman.

All this speculative thought ceased, however, when Greyback saw his reward come stumbling through the fireplace, wrists bound and closely followed by Rodolphus’s fiancee, Bellatrix Black.

Giggling with that infuriating voice of hers, Bellatrix sent Barnaby careening to the ground in front of her with a brisk wave of her wand. In her free hand, she carried by the scruff a young girl of perhaps sixteen or seventeen.

“One of these is yours, Greyback,” Bellatrix said curtly, nodding to the boy on the floor. But Greyback didn’t need telling, his eyes had been fixed on the kid since he’d arrived. He’d spared not even a glance for Bellatrix and the other.

“This one,” Bellatrix said gleefully. “Is sort of a bonus.”

Rodolphus cocked an eyebrow. “Delightful,” he muttered. “But I wasn’t aware we were running a boarding house.”

“Oh cheer up, love,” Bellatrix continued, passing the girl off to Rodolphus who took ahold of her with distaste. “She insisted on coming, really. Tried to _stop me_ snagging this one. Wasn’t expecting her, honestly. When old Lee let us in the house, he didn’t think to warn us that his brat had a friend over.” She motioned with her boot to Barnaby, who by that time was sitting up and had scooted against the wall in an effort to get away from Greyback, who was advancing on him slowly.

“Anyway, Greyback, I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re not to touch either one until you’ve upheld your end of the bargain.”

Greyback rolled his eyes in frustration and stood up. Barnaby, whether too weak from whatever Bellatrix had done to him, or too scared, did not try to stand in kind.

“I know, I know, he wants to sic me on his defector’s children first.”

“He just wants to know you’re serious, is all,” Bellatrix said and Greyback finally looked at her. She was a gorgeous woman. Rodolphus had really lucked out in landing the prettiest of the Black sisters. Although he understood Bellatrix to be...something of a handful at times. The Dark Lord had always been extremely fond of her particular brand of zealotry.

Bellatrix brushed her ebony hair back and smiled a bright white. “Nice to see you again, Fenrir,” she said warmly before pecking Rodolphus on the chin. “I’ve a lot to do today and I’ll be off with Cissa and Lucius tomorrow. I’ll send you an owl later next week. Hopefully I can...swing by...”

Rodolphus smiled in kind and nodded as Bellatrix made to leave. “Do say hi to Rabastan for me,” she added with just a hint of smugness before grabbing a handful of floo powder and exiting the manor.

Bellatrix had always been oddly kind to Greyback. He supposed it to be not any true affection so much as a lack of fear. Bellatrix was not afraid of him in any way. She did not think him capable of harming her, and neither did she feel him to be a threat to her station with the Dark Lord nor relationship with Rodolphus.

It took a second for the adoring look to fade from Rodolphus’s eyes even after his betrothed had left and Greyback almost snickered. Bellatrix had him on a lead and she knew it. No wonder she could so flippantly waltz in and out of his life. He would gladly fall for any scraps she threw his way. Bellatrix Black was a prize and everyone around her knew it. Judging by the snarky manner in which she’d name-dropped Rabastan, Greyback assumed her to be privy to the boy's jealous nature and...empowered by it.

“Well,” said Rodolphus abruptly, jarring Greyback from his daydreams. “Let’s take a closer look at what we have here...”

Barnaby seemed to be too much in shock to speak yet, but the girl was now wriggling in Rodolphus’s grasp and he had to use both hands to restrain her.

“Let _go_ of me,” she spat venomously.

“Dear _me,_ ” Rodolphus sneered. “Someone has an attitude problem.” He spoke over the girl’s head, directly to Greyback. He nodded to the boy on the floor. “Make sure that doesn’t get away, okay? This is a risky operation we’re running here...apparently keeping half the school locked up in my house...”

Greyback nodded and approached Barnaby. The boy was definitely in shock. Greyback figured the bonds were more for show than anything else. This kid wasn’t about to run anywhere. Greyback hoisted the boy to his feet, breathing in deeply.

Greyback’s somewhat heightened senses were getting even stronger the closer the moon approached, and he could find himself identifying smells in a way that would have never made any sense to him before.

Barnaby smelled not afraid, but _terrified._ There was a difference and Greyback was coming to learn it well.

The girl, despite her slight build, was kicking out at Rodolphus with vigor. Greyback smelled fear on her as well, maybe more so than with Barnaby, but she also smelled...surprised in a way that Barnaby wasn’t.

It clicked into place in Greyback’s mind. The boy knew exactly what danger he was in. He was used to a certain level of mistreatment from his father, and had likely been introduced to plenty of the Dark Lord’s henchmen before, or at least had seen them in passing. He was terrified...but resigned. This girl—Greyback had to admire her tenacity—seemed not just terrified, but confused, and she was lashing out desperately for it.

Rodolphus eventually took hold of her long brown hair and pulled, exposing her throat and immediately raising his wand to the hollow of her neck. “Can we calm down, please?” he asked. “Unlike your little friend over there, missy, you’re not spoken for. So if you want to keep your little heart beating, I suggest you learn some manners and learn them fast.”

“Mia,” Barnaby whispered. “Don’t.”

“Listen to your little boyfriend,” Rodolphus suggested. “He knows when he’s been had.”

Mia seemed to deflate significantly. Greyback could _smell_ her gasps before he heard them.

“Help me get them into the other guest room,” Rodolphus complained loudly, and Greyback thought of the fate that likely awaited poor Regulus, having been denied one of the Lestrange’s many guest rooms and instead shunted into Rodolphus’s very own bedroom.

“Sign up for one brat and suddenly I end up with a whole hostel of the little...” Rodolphus trailed off grumpily and tugged Mia off with him. Greyback followed with Barnaby in tow. The boy didn’t even need to be dragged. Greyback could have laughed. Yes, this kid certainly knew the Dark Lord’s lot and was not eager to cross Rodolphus Lestrange, whether more for his friend’s sake or his own, Greyback did not know and cared even less.


	2. Taste Tests

“I know you don’t like Rookwood,” Rodolphus said, watching Greyback as he tied Barnaby to the bedpost while Mia watched warily.

“What _was_ your first clue?”

“He’s all bluff, I hope you know that. The Dark Lord doesn’t value him half as highly as he claims.”

“Still ahead of me,” Greyback muttered, in no mood for any of this.

“Wolfy,” Rodolphus said with a lopsided grin. “He’ll come ‘round. They all will. You’ll see.”

“Yes,” Greyback said sarcastically. “Soon I’ll have ousted Malfoy as the Dark Lord’s right hand man. He’ll value me above all others and Rookwood will tremble at the mere mention of me.”

Rodolphus chuckled. “If you could aim just a wee bit lower, you might just get what you want.”

“And how’s that?”

Rodolphus shrugged. “Maybe you need to embrace your true nature a little more.”

Greyback bristled. Beneath him, Barnaby shifted in discomfort and Greyback tightened his bonds immediately, causing him to whine. Mia writhed sympathetically in Rodolphus’s grip.

“And just how can an infection that struck me last year be my innate personality?”

Rodolphus laughed and threw Mia onto the bed where, with a quick wave of his wand, she joined Barnaby in bondage. Greyback felt a sudden wave of inferiority that he had immediately restrained Barnaby by hand. Why hadn’t he used his wand?

“Wolfy, I don’t think any of us is simple enough to believe that getting bitten is the sole reason you crave violence.”

Greyback glared before turning back to Barnaby.

“You really want to hurt him, don’t you?” Rodolphus laughed. Greyback swallowed.

“It’s going to tear his dear uncle apart, hearing what’s happened. I’m sure his brother will tell him every sordid detail. Have you thought about how long you want to keep him? I’m looking forward to dumping his corpse on his uncle’s doorstep.”

At that, Barnaby finally gave a reaction. He gasped and whined against the gag Rodolphus had conjured and shook his head frantically, his soft chestnut hair flipping around his eyes.

Greyback reached out hesitantly. Barnaby certainly looked...appealing. Greyback’s hand hovered near Barnaby’s face, but he hesitated to touch him, unsure of himself. Fortunately, Barnaby stilled on his own and Greyback was spared having to restrain him.

“Greyback, you’re pathetic. Don’t hold back on my account.” Rodolphus crept forward and whispered into Greyback’s ear. “ _Scare_ him. You don’t want these two running out on some half-brained escape attempt. Remember who he is. He’s yours now, you know.”

“I’ve been told not to touch him yet,” Greyback muttered, unwilling to let Rodolphus tempt him into infuriating the Dark Lord. Rodolphus only laughed.

“You’re not allowed to fuck him until you’ve finished the Dark Lord’s assignment next week,” he said loudly and Greyback clapped his hands to his ears as Mia began to scream.

“You’re more than in the clear to lay down the law a little,” Rodolphus continued. “ _And_ that’s it, we’re gagging you, too.” With a sharp wave of his wand, Mia was effectively muffled. She fell onto her side in anguish, as close to Barnaby as she could get, her yellow-hemmed robes spewing out around her.

“We’ll have to find a use for that one or just get rid of her,” Rodolphus said shrugging.

“Why don’t you take her?” Greyback suggested.

Rodolphus shook his head. There was a slight glint in his hazel eyes. And while he did reach down a hand to caress Mia’s cheek, the gesture was largely for show. “Little girls aren’t my thing,” he said earnestly. A thoughtful expression passed over his face. “Rookwood will be back tomorrow. Perhaps I can pawn her off on him.”

Mia’s eyes grew incredibly wide, so much so that Greyback cocked his head to the side in question. “Recognize the name?” he asked. “Well I guess that seals it then. Someone’s not leaving here alive.”

Rodolphus nodded. “Of course, can’t let dear Augustus’s cover be blown. What a tragedy that would be.”

“Yes,” said Greyback in a faraway voice. “Yes, it would...”

“Rabastan!”

Greyback looked up to see Rodolphus dashing to the door and trying to push Rabastan back out into the hall, but the boy wasn’t budging. His eyes were wide as he stared at Mia and Barnaby and it clicked with Greyback that Rabastan, having just graduated the previous May, would likely know these two students. Immediately, Mia began to thrash again, a desperate sort of recognition in her eyes.

“Rod—”

But just that fast, Rodolphus clapped a hand roughly over Rabastan’s mouth and manhandled the boy out the door and down the hall. With his heightened hearing, Greyback heard muffled yelling, several sharp slaps and then some vaguely apologetic mumbling.

Greyback turned back to Barnaby and smiled sweetly. “Amazing the private lives our schoolmates lead, isn’t it?”

Barnaby whimpered against his gag and Greyback found he rather liked the sound. Indeed a jolt of pleasure ran straight to his cock. Before he could be too tempted to get himself into trouble, he left the room, locking it on his way out.

Rodolphus was coming back down the hall. Greyback raised an eyebrow.

“The perils of raising a teenager,” was all the explanation Rodolphus offered. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded as Greyback stalked off down the hall, making a clear line for Rodolphus’s bedroom.

“To the practice round you promised me,” Greyback snapped. There was a frenzy rising in him. He was more worked up than he had ever been. Every sense was on edge. All the sounds of the manor were too loud. The lights too bright.

“Now?” Rodolphus demanded, but he made no move to follow. “Come back here, you slavering beast, I’ll not have your rotten hide ruining my bedroom!”

Greyback whirled around, wand in hand, but Rodolphus wasn’t threatened by the twelve inches of birchwood, instead his eyes were transfixed on Greyback’s mouth, from whence those long, razor-sharp fangs were once again growing.

“Marvelous,” he whispered in fascination.

For a moment, Greyback nearly leaped at Rodolphus, but he stopped himself and instead marched back down the hall, throwing himself into the master bedroom and suite with such force that Regulus Black, who had been curled up on the couch under the window, jolted and dropped his book.

“Who are you?” he asked, startled.

“Oh?” Greyback panted, closing and locking the door behind him. “What? Your daddy didn’t tell you? I’m _crushed_ , Regulus, I really am.” Greyback feigned a mock hurt, like he himself hadn’t just learned Regulus Black’s name less than twenty-four hours prior.

Regulus was slowly moving for his wand, but Greyback was faster.

“ _Expelliarmus,_ ” he cried, catching Regulus’s jet-black wand with ease as it sailed through the air in a wide arc. Regulus sputtered.

At this point, he seemed more confused than afraid, but as Greyback moved closer, the nature of his face came into sharp contrast under the lamplight and Regulus screamed, scrambling back off the couch and moving backwards until he hit the wall.

“What’s the matter?” Greyback snarled. He remembered the lithe greyhound that had always followed Orion Black about at the Ministry, and the emblazoned greyhound crests he’d seen shining from the man’s cufflinks. “I thought your family _liked_ dogs!”

“Are—are you...you’re a—werewolf, aren’t you?” Regulus squeaked.

Greyback clapped twice before leaping around a chair and taking ahold of Regulus Black by the shoulders, pressing him against the wall next to the bed. “What an astute observation. I’ll bet mummy and daddy were so proud that at least on of their idiot children has some brains.”

Regulus was shaking, his eyes quivering as he looked at the fangs not three inches from his face. Greyback’s entire lower half quivered. How delicious fear was.

Greyback realized in that moment just how strong the fear of werewolves was in pureblood children. Well, the _pure_ purebloods, at least. Growing up in a family much further estranged from any true pureblood roots, he was spared a lot of the grim fairy tales. But Regulus Black had likely grown up with the whole nine yards.

Greyback wasn’t much older than Regulus, who had graduated alongside Rabastan Lestrange. And he was only a bit taller, just a touch more physically strong. And yet here was Regulus, not even attempting to free himself or to fight back. He cowered before Greyback, eyes never leaving those fangs.

Then a thought struck Greyback, and he lost all control. Forgetting the vague warnings he’d heard from Rodolphus, he leaned forward and bit down hard on Regulus’s neck, enough to draw blood from his veins and a pained shriek from his lips.

Greyback drew back to admire his handiwork. Blood cascaded down Regulus’s neck. By sheer luck, it looked as though Greyback had missed anything vital. He threw the trembling teenager onto the bed and climbed after him. Regulus thrashed and spread crimson blood all over Rodolphus’s silky blue sheets.

“Oh hush,” Greyback said, pinning down the flailing boy. The instant Regulus felt his touch, he stilled, like a rabbit caught in the teeth of a predator.

“Just calm down for me, yeah?” Greyback leaned forward and drew his tongue over Regulus’s wound. The boy flinched, drawing more blood. Greyback savored the taste, much less metallic and unpleasant than he remembered blood tasting before.

Greyback leaned back, straddling Regulus at the hips, and smiled. He could feel the blood running between his teeth, dripping down his chin. Regulus shook beneath him, but was at last silent again.

“Don’t fret so much,” Greyback crooned. The words were spilling quite easily from his mouth. Away from Rodolphus, there was a wave of confidence crashing over him. What little uncertainty there’d been was now gone. “I won’t eat you, Reggie.”

Regulus seemed deeply disturbed by the moniker and Greyback wondered if the name _Reggie_ had been reserved for Regulus’s parents or, more likely, his big brother.

“Oh, such a fuss over a name,” he mused. “Here you are, bleeding like a stuck kneazle and it’s the _words_ that make you cry like that...”

Greyback set about licking Regulus’s neck again until he was satisfied. When he reared back again, he had to place a hand over Regulus’s mouth to muffle his screaming.

“ _Hush._ No matter what mummy and daddy said, I really am not going to eat you. I just wanted to see if...” he ran his tongue over a blood-soaked fang. “Well I suppose we’ll know in a week or so, won’t we?”

Greyback had never been so hard in his life. Rutting down on Regulus felt good, but he wanted something more, something…

“ _Fuck,_ ” he exclaimed, panting sharply as he came. Beneath him, Regulus looked somehow even more horrified. Greyback slumped down onto Regulus’s chest and chuckled breathlessly.

“Oh, don’t act so innocent,” he said. With great effort, Greyback pushed himself up so he at least wasn’t crushing the boy. “Gods, I really wish your father could see you like this...what I wouldn’t give to tell him to his _face_ that I did this to you. Just look at you tremble. And to think the Dark Lord thought you worthy enough to _recruit!_

“Tell you what, when mummy and daddy come back from their trip and ask why you can’t sleep without your nightlight anymore, you can tell them who it is that you’re so scared of. I want you to say it was—”

“Fenrir!”

Greyback looked up almost languidly, as though seeing Rodolphus standing tall in the doorway was the least surprising thing in the world to him.

“Rodolphus,” he murmured, sliding off of Regulus and standing. He righted his clothes and cocked an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“What have you done, you maniac?” Rodolphus demanded. Greyback’s fangs had retreated as soon as he’d come and he ran a tongue over his normal canines almost wistfully. If he could perhaps learn just a bit more control over it…

“Nothing,” said Greyback. “Just a little test run, is all.”

“A test—for fuck’s sake look at...did you _bite_ him?”

Regulus was sitting up now, one hand gingerly cradling his wounded neck and the other arm coiled tightly around his stomach. He looked at Rodolphus with desperate, pleading eyes. Greyback felt a thrill. How frightened must the younger Black be of Greyback to turn to _Rodolphus_ for help?

“Rodolphus,” Regulus whispered. “I...I need to—”

But Rodolphus wasn’t listening. He instead rounded on Greyback. “This isn’t what I had in _mind,_ Greyback.”

“It wasn’t?” Greyback cocked a head to the side in feigned innocence.

“What part of no permanent damage did you not understand? This one—” he jerked his head callously towards Regulus—“isn’t one of your chew toys. He’s an agent of the Dark Lord _and_ his parents are important contacts. If they find out you’ve _turned_ their heir, they’ll have your head— _and mine—_ on a goddam pike!”

Greyback only shrugged. Truth be told, this side of climax, he was a little more scared of the consequences for his actions, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let Rodolphus know that.

“I was curious,” he said simply. “And besides, I need to know, don’t I?”

“Know what?” demanded Rodolphus.

“Know whether or not I’m contagious to people outside of the full moon. I figure Reggie here can make a most timely guinea pig.”

Rodolphus was seething. “Jesus fucking christ,” he muttered.

“Rodolphus, please, I need to go to the hospital,” Regulus whispered.

“Shut up,” Rodolphus snapped. “You’re not going anywhere.” He seemed to be thinking extremely fast. “Your family is expecting you to stay here for a few more weeks anyway, so we’ll keep you on lockdown and see if...if you _change_ next week alongside our _DEAR_ friend, Fenrir.”

Greyback only smirked. “He can sleep in my room,” he offered bluntly.

“No!” Regulus screamed, a few final spurts of blood seeping through his fingers at the outburst. “Rodolphus, I...”

“Get up, you’re bleeding everywhere,” Rodolphus said angrily. He summoned two house elves and gave them the curt instructions to clean the sheets as well as Regulus’s clothes.

“There are bandages in the bathroom cabinet. Run yourself a bath and then get back in here,” Rodolphus ordered the boy.

“Where are you going?” Greyback asked curiously, trotting along after Rodolphus as he exited the room and made off down the hall.

“To get a drink!” Rodolphus snapped.

“That sounds delightful,” Greyback said chipperly. He followed Rodolphus into the kitchen. “I’ll have a Cuba Libre.”

Rodolphus glared at him but obliged, too furious to even summon a house elf to serve him. “You’d better pray that Regulus hasn’t contracted your disease, Greyback,” he said, handing the werewolf a glass of rum. “Or that might be your last drink.”


	3. Revenge is a dish...

As the week of the full moon approached, Greyback found it harder and harder to stay away from Barnaby. This wasn’t his first full moon, he was well aware that he always got...like this during the lead up.

But Greyback managed to summon restraint he didn’t know he had. Every day he went to see to their two teenage prisoners—after all, it wouldn’t due to have the two fall into disrepair even before Greyback had had his fun—and he managed to feed them, escort them to the bath and have their clothes laundered without completely giving in. Although he was ashamed to admit he had stolen a kiss or two—or a lick—and he hoped the Dark Lord wouldn’t fault him for that.

Contrary to her display in the drawing room that first night, Mia had seemed to lose all the fight that was in her. She was incredibly softspoken and timid, although a fire still flared up in her eyes every time she saw Greyback run his tongue across Barnaby’s neck. Although he wasn’t particularly interested in her, Greyback loved watching Mia bathe, if only because it upset her so. Barnaby was so resigned that he didn’t seem to care if Greyback saw him naked or not. Mia, on the other hand, still contorted her limbs and shuffled in and out of the tub, trying her hardest to hide as much of her exposed body as possible.

When Rookwood eventually returned—several days later than he had originally promised, apparently having been preoccupied with _important matters_ pertaining to the Dark Lord—Greyback’s resolve was tested more than ever before when he found himself the unwitting viewer of a full show.

“He did _what?_ ” Rookwood exclaimed from the drawing room. Rodolphus and Greyback both frowned at hearing their accomplice’s voice, neither having realized the man had arrived yet. Greyback and Rodolphus were both seated in the kitchen and rose in unison to investigate the yelling coming from the drawing room.

Rabastan Lestrange, who had clearly not been planning on Rookwood exclaiming his presence so loudly before he’d had a chance to scuttle off, was standing next to the Death Eater with a look on his face like he would have brought an exasperated palm to his eyes were he not so scared of the sudden appearance of his brother.

Rookwood immediately turned his dark eyes onto Rodolphus and pointed angrily at Greyback. “He _bit_ Regulus Black? _While he was transformed!?_ ”

“Partially transformed, Augustus,” Rodolphus said placatingly. “And we don’t know for sure that it will have any permanent ill effects. Regulus is resting comfortably. He doesn’t feel sick, which is a good sign, because usually after an infectious bite—”

“You allowed that _dog_ to attack one of our own?”

“Oh, like you’ve ever cared for Regulus Black,” Rodolphus snapped. Unconsciously he began to roll up the sleeves of his dinner shirt, as though readying himself for a fight. Rookwood snapped back immediately.

“We can’t have some mongrel loose amongst our ranks if we can’t even control it!” he insisted. “Regulus Black is a favorite of the Dark Lord’s. He’ll have all of us punished just for being involved.” Out the side of his eye, Rookwood glared towards Greyback. “And he ought to have that beast killed, seeing as we clearly cannot trust it.”

“Enough, Augustus,” Rodolphus hissed. “He didn’t _lose control._ The dumb idiot thought it would be a great idea to test his infectiousness on Black. He was just curious to see if he was able to turn people outside of a full moon and I apparently had failed to adequately explain the importance of Regulus Black to him. I may have...mis-implied that the boy was fair game, and since he wasn’t permitted near Lee...” Rodolphus shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant.

“Importance?” Greyback questioned. He’d never thought of Regulus Black as particularly important.

“The Dark Lord has...history with that boy’s mother. How did you think he’d managed to escape any manner of punishment for his unwillingness to commit fully to the Dark Lord’s ideals? Why do you think none of us has yet been tasked with killing Sirius Black?”

Greyback tilted his head curiously. “I thought the Lords Black had disowned their oldest son.”

Rookwook threw his eyes to the chandeliered ceiling in exasperation. “Walburga and Orion want their oldest son disowned not disemboweled, you imbecile. There’s a world of difference between the two.”

Now it was Greyback’s turn to shrug. “Sorry,” he said snarkily.

“Barely a week and he’s already strutting about like he owns the place,” Rookwood said, eyeing Greyback with distaste.

“Listen, Augustus,” Rodolphus said slyly. “I believe it would be best for all of us if we didn’t mention this little incident to the Dark Lord right now.”

“And you believe he won’t find out?”

“If he’s not got reason to suspect, then he won’t go digging.”

Rookwood shook his head. “And just what the fuck makes you think Regulus Black is going to keep quiet? That he won’t do everything in his power to see this _beast_ get its comeuppance the second he gets out of here?”

“I know how to keep Regulus Black quiet,” Rodolphus said darkly.

“By threatening his older brother? You have to know that won’t work forever, Rodolphus.” Rookwood crossed his arms. He adopted a cold posture, but at least his wand was no longer at the ready. “Not three months ago when the two last met, Sirius Black was cursing the boy’s name, actually threw a punch at him. Even Regulus isn’t a fool enough to keep risking his neck for that ungrateful bastard.”

“Never underestimate how stupid people can get about family,” Rodolphus concluded. “I can keep Regulus quiet. As long as there is no lycanthropy—and I truly believe there won’t be—then we can just put this whole mess behind us.”

Rookwood sighed. “Fine, Lestrange,” he said. “Have it your way. I won’t go out of my way to bring this up. But if the Dark Lord asks, I won’t lie for you. I’ve no desire to face his wrath just to save that mutt’s sorry life.”

Greyback felt his lips pull back in a snarl. He tried to summon his fangs, but couldn’t quite do it and so retreated, lingering next to Rodolphus, who after now having calmed the crisis with Rookwood, was starting to turn his gaze on his brother.

Rabastan had been denied an exit from the drawing room due to Rodolphus and Greyback blocking the doorway. Judging by the way his eyes were flittering around, he seemed to be contemplating whether it was worth it to throw himself into the fireplace or out a window.

“Of course, Augustus, I regret dragging you into this...unfortunate situation. I assure you it wasn’t _my_ plan...”

Rabastan seemed to know he was in serious trouble. Greyback smirked as Rodolphus took ahold of the boy by his wrist and started to drag him from the room. “Oh, please, Rodolphus, let me watch!” he begged.

“Sod off, Greyback. Busy yourself elsewhere,” Rodolphus hissed as he passed by, a terrified Rabastan in tow.

“Aw, what could possibly be more fun than this?”

“Go introduce Rookwood to this hush money,” Rodolphus hollered back and then he and his brother were gone. Greyback pouted for a minute, disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see Rabastan Lestrange looking _very sorry indeed_ for that little stunt he pulled. Greyback could only assume he’d told Rookwood out of spite, in an attempt to land Greyback in serious trouble. Greyback wondered if Rabastan understood just how much trouble his own brother would have been in had his plan worked. The boy likely thought Rodolphus’s station and standing with the Dark Lord would protect him somewhat, and that he would throw Greyback completely under the bus, an assessment that the werewolf couldn’t disagree with.

“A bribe?” Rookwood asked curiously. “What is he talking about?”

“I assume that Mia girl,” Greyback said plainly.

Rookwood gave him a mildly confused look.

“Come on then,” said Greyback begrudgingly. Part of him wished he’d played dumb. As much as he didn’t want Mia for himself, he was loathe to give anything to Augustus Rookwood.

Greyback led Rookwood to the guest room he was keeping the two teenagers in. “Just so we’re clear,” he said coldly. “The boy is mine. If you so much as—”

Rookwood waved him quiet. There was a horrible grin spreading over the man’s face. Rookwood was not a bad looking man. In fact, if Greyback didn’t harbor such a hatred for him, he might have found the man’s regal cheekbones and dark, pooling eyes vaguely attractive. Yet with that horrible grin, Rookwood looked even more like a monster than Greyback felt. The werewolf actually felt a small pang of sympathy when he saw Mia’s reaction to the man.

Before the grin, there may have been a tiny flicker of hope, but that was swiftly crushed. Instead, there was hatred. Fear radiated off the girl in waves—Greyback could smell it—but there was a sense of deep-set betrayal, too, and...regret? Greyback did a double take on that one. Why would the sight of Rookwood spur regret in this random teenager?

Mia was currently bound at the wrists and ankles, but she wasn’t gagged, and when Rookwood approached her she said quietly, “My mother will kill you.”

Rookwood’s grin split even wider. “Oh, little Mia, your dear mum is never going to see you again. And when I return to work next week to let her cry on my shoulders, she’s certainly never going to blame _me_.”

Mia closed her eyes and fidgeted her legs, as if willing Rookwood to disappear. She was muttering something fast under her breath.

“Yes,” Rookwood said with a laugh. “Maybe you _should_ have said something years ago, my little badger. Might have spared your mother the loss of _two_ children. As if your dear father’s death wasn’t trauma enough for the woman.”

Greyback had initially planned on scampering from the room to see if he could listen in on Rabastan’s painful cries in the other room, but what was unfolding here was turning out to be much more interesting. Not wanting to get kicked from the room, Greyback stayed quiet and watched as Rookwood pushed Barnaby roughly off the bed, where he landed with a crash on the Persian rug.

“Keep that silent,” he barked at Greyback. “I don’t want to be...interrupted.”

Barnaby was already gagged to within an inch of his life, so that wasn’t much of a problem. Greyback crouched down next to him and pulled the boy flush against his chest, playing idly with his bonds, but never looking away from Rookwood as he advanced on Mia.

Barnaby was shaking and looking away. Greyback felt the boy lean into his chest, hiding his face, and he felt a sick jolt of pleasure at the sensation. Imagine, seeking out your fear, begging for comfort.

“You’ve grown so much,” Rookwood observed, standing over Mia like a healer at a sick bed. “Although sadly, not yet much where it counts,” he lamented, snaking a hand up the girl’s school shirt and fondling her breasts.

Greyback felt a heat pooling under his skin. His cock stirred against Barnaby’s side, and the boy must have noticed, but he showed no reaction.

Greyback rearranged himself until he was sitting comfortably, Barnaby snug against him. Greyback drank in his scent like an elixir, getting high off such close contact. Still Barnaby showed little reaction and Greyback smiled. How fun it would be to discover just where the line was. How far could he go before he got a rise out of the boy?

“You know,” Greyback whispered in Barnaby’s ear as Rookwood delighted in peeling Mia’s clothes back one layer at a time. “I wonder...do you know why you’re here?”

Silence.

  
“Oh, I see, you’re not talking to me. Well, no matter, I don’t mind a silent conversation partner.” Greyback drew his lips back slowly, sucking in air and willing his teeth to come out. They didn’t, and so he closed his eyes and concentrated on the body heat surrounding him and the delicious _anxiety_ he could taste radiating off of Barnaby’s very skin. “It’s not you, really, you see...I’ve met the acquaintance of that uncle of yours. And he...well you could say he rubbed me the wrong way.”

Were he not under very strict orders from a mass murder, Greyback would have punctuated his words with a bite—a thrust—a hand on Barnaby’s cock, _squeezing—_ anything! But all he could do now was play nicely, at least with the kid’s body. He’d been given no such warnings about playing nicely with his _mind._

“It’s unfair, isn’t it? How badly we suffer sometimes, because of the actions of one idiot relative? You ought to talk with Regulus sometime, I bet he’d be very eager to commiserate!”

Meanwhile, Rookwood was readjusting Mia’s bonds, tying her spread eagle on the bed and nearly giggling with mirth.

“You don’t know _anything_ about my brother,” Mia hissed, and Greyback realized she must have been responding to a statement that he hadn’t heard.

Rookwood took a long time running the back of his hand down her side, delighting in the uncontrollable twitching of her skin.

“Oh, I think you’ll find that my friends and I knew him quite well. The stories I could tell you, and maybe I will, but probably another time...” Rookwood’s teeth spread into a wide, leering smile.

Greyback’s eyes trailed hungrily down to rest his gaze on the hollow of Barnaby’s throat. How enticing he looked. Greyback felt his blood pound in his ears. With one deep bite, he could…

Greyback shook his head lightly to clear his thoughts. “But I’m getting ahead of myself,” he said aloud. “You know—er, Barnabus, was it?—oh, no, I’m sorry, _Barnaby._ ”Greyback smiled at the look of indignation on Barnaby’s face. “All this talk of revenge...I know you heard that lovely Lestrange man letting slip our plans for you earlier.” Barnaby’s eyes widened, a slight but noticeable reaction to the reminder that he was destined to be tormented and ultimately killed.

“But do you want to know what I think I’d rather do, instead?” Greyback said sleekly. He continued without pause. “I don’t think I want to kill you right now. No...you see, Barnaby mine,” Greyback ran his fingers down Barnaby’s cheek and as he concentrated, he saw his nails sharpen satisfactorily. “I think you’d make a good piece of bait, like a lovely fly-fishing lure...”

At that Barnaby’s heart rate picked up.

“Just imagine if I let slip where you were, do you think your dear uncle would come running? I bet he’d offer to trade places with you. Of course, I’d probably just off you both, but it would be a sweet gesture nonetheless...”

A shriek tore Greyback from his musings and he felt Barnaby tense in his arms. Mia was writhing as much as her bonds would allow her to while Rookwood worked his fingers inside of her. He had his head buried between her legs, and was licking a cold trail down her slender thigh.

“Would you like me to do that to you?” Greyback asked innocently, tapping a finger up Barnaby’s throat. They boy still wasn’t giving him the rise he knew he wanted, but Greyback supposed he would have time. All the time in the world to prize whines and cries and _pleas_ from the teenager’s lungs.

“You!” Rookwood barked, suddenly looking up from Mia, who lay panting, a confused and dazed look on her face. “Tie that up and get out.”

“Excuse me?” Greyback responded. Part of him had honestly thought Rookwood may have forgotten he was in the room.

“You heard me,” Rookwood hissed. He jerked his head towards the door. “Out.”

Greyback bared his teeth for a second and shook his hands, feeling his nails shrink back to normal. “Ugly bastard doesn’t want me to see him take his cock out,” he explained wryly to Barnaby.

“Fine, you can stay,” Rookwood snapped. “But on the condition that I pluck out your worthless eyes.”

“I’m _going_ ,” Greyback whined. He pulled out his wand and reattached Barnaby to the bed. “Remember,” he added to Rookwood. “You only get to touch _that one._ ”

“Get. _Out._ ”

* * *

Greyback’s assignment for the Dark Lord could have gone better.

“It’s because he sent me with Rookwood,” Greyback complained, sitting once again in Rodolphus Lestrange’s kitchen, one leg tucked moodily across his lap. He knew he looked petulant. He _felt_ petulant.

“Yes, I’m sure the Dark Lord was eager to sabotage you,” Rodolphus said condescendingly as he poured himself yet another cup of coffee. He’d been up all night observing Regulus Black.

“That wanker was too loud, alerted everyone in the damn neighborhood. Completely ruined our approach and then when I saw the kid running, I just...I can’t explain it, I had to chase him. Idiot should have known not to let me loose until we had the brat in custody. Honestly, I think he _wanted_ this to happen, I should—”

“Regulus is fine, by the way,” Rodolphus said sourly. He’d been listening to Greyback whinge since dawn and honestly, he was coming down with a headache.

Greyback turned to the chair at the farthest end of the table and looked at Regulus Black curiously, like he hadn’t been sitting next to him for almost an hour.

“Oh, well lucky you,” Greyback said sourly. While the consequences would have been disastrous for him, a part of Greyback had been hoping Regulus Black’s life was ruined as well. Part of it was spite and part of it may have been—if he was honest with himself—a desire for some company and commiseration. Greyback was suddenly incredibly self-conscious of his knotted hair, bruised body and cut up hands.

Gods did Regulus look a mess, though. The lad clearly hadn’t slept all night, but had probably been up until dawn under the close watch of Rodolphus, terrified that at any instant he might start to transform. He looked almost as bad as Greyback, who _had_ transformed. Horribly.

“Looks like you healed up quite nicely, though,” Greyback added, bitter that Regulus Black didn’t even have a scar. “You know,” he said, leaning forward onto the table. He licked his lips lasciviously. “We could always try again.”

Regulus, confidence clearly bolstered by the presence of Rodolphus, said harshly, “Did you really murder a child?”

Greyback leaped to his feet. “So you _do_ want another love bite!” he yelled.

“Did I say something that was untrue?” Regulus demanded, also standing. Soon Rodolphus was in between them.

“The next person to open their mouth,” he said crossly. “Is getting locked in the cellar for the rest of their miserable life.”

Regulus calmed in the quick way that humans could, deflating and stepping back, his breathing and heart rate back to normal within seconds. Greyback, on the other hand, had to make a concerted effort to slow the rush of blood through his veins, and it took him longer to back off. When he did, he sat down and helped himself to Rodolphus’s coffee mug.

“Greyback, just let it go.”

“Let what go?”

“Everything. The Dark Lord isn’t angry with you, he knew there was a good chance you wouldn’t be able to control yourself yet. And Rookwood will likely be too busy at the Ministry to go out with you again next month. Regulus...”

Regulus looked up at his cousin.

“...just go. I don’t care where, just get, _go_ ,” Rodolphus shooed Regulus away like he was an errant dog. In a cheeky move that Greyback honestly hadn’t expected from the boy, Regulus made towards the front door. In a second, Rodolphus had whipped out his wand and pulled Regulus back around to face him.

“Nice try, but you’re still mine until your parents return for you. Why don’t you go find Rabastan and let him know you’re all right. I know he was...curious about everything.”

Greyback sighed heavily and pulled apart a scone without eating it. Apropos of seemingly nothing, he felt his cock stir to life. “Did the Dark Lord say how long I get to keep Barnaby?” he asked wistfully.

Rodolphus blinked. “For as long as you can keep him alive. Now stop making a mess.”


	4. ...Best Served Cold

Greyback made a habit of casting amplifying spells under the door of Barnaby and Mia’s room so he could listen gleefully to their conversations, giddy like a student peeking surreptitiously into the staff room.

From his sneakings, he was able to glean that the two students were an item, which would at least explain why Mia had been at Barnaby’s house late in the evening and why she had so vehemently defended him.

Although it would have been better for the two to have been bitter enemies, rather than semi-sweethearts dancing around the whole commitment idea. The knowledge that each one was terrified not just for themselves, but for the other as well sent tingles down Greyback’s spine.

He also learned that Mia’s family had history with Augustus Rookwood. Her parents had a working relationship with the man at the Ministry, as did Barnaby’s uncle, and Greyback found his distaste of Rookwood deepening. That Rookwood even pretended to be familiar with the older Lee...Greyback felt his lip curl just at the thought.

Yet this finally explained Mia’s bizarre emotional reaction to being thrown at Rookwood’s feet. He hadn’t just attacked her, it was a _betrayal_.

For the next few weeks, he practiced his transformations in front of the mirror and found things to be much easier once he had given up that small niggling fear that had always been in the back of his mind (the fear that a partial transformation sans-full moon might one day become irreversible). Once the idea of accidentally landing himself with a permanent set of oversized canines no longer bothered him, it was like a switch had been flipped.

The next full moon was the easiest he had ever experienced. According to Rookwood (who despite his Ministry obligations was still spending an annoying amount of time at the Lestranges’, Greyback supposed because he was more into Mia than he cared to admit) there were rumblings at St. Mungo’s of a possible cure for lycanthropy.

“The hope, of course,” Rookwood said matter-of-factly, swishing his merlot around in one of Rodolphus’s fanciest glasses. “Is that this particular wolfsbane concoction will eradicate the virus’s hold on the nervous system permanently, and the patient will go back to…‘normal’—” his eyes lingered on Greyback. “Such as that were…

“However,” he continued. “that seems to be a bit of a pipe dream. And most of the researcher seem to be relatively content with the possibility that this fabulous new cure will simply...tame the werewolf during full moons.”

Greyback could tell from Rookwood’s tone of voice that he was dancing around an admission.

“You’ve sabotaged their progress, haven’t you?” he asked, taking a shot in the dark which proved to be correct.

“Yes, I’ve been sneaking into St. Mungo’s every evening in secret to piss in their potion vials,” Rookwood said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “The Dark Lord’s agents at the hospital have seen to it of course, you imbecile. I’ve more important things to do.”

Greyback kept his face neutral and Rookwood continued.

“A complete failure would leave them too primed to try again. So the Dark Lord thinks it’s best if they succeed just a little. Enough that a few years from now all the werewolves out there will have the option to curl up every full moon as a slinking, neutered wolf pup, uninfectious.”

Rodolphus nodded, tossing his empty wineglass to the floor for the house elf to frantically catch. “Of course, it’s a necessary precaution. We can’t have our newest weapon being neutralized so soon. Not much of a threat if mommy and daddy can just pop their brat over to St. Mungo’s for a quick potion and not have to worry.”

“Yes,” Rookwood continued, eyes alight. “Sorry, Wolfy, but it looks like you’ll be stuck as is for quite likely the rest of your miserable little life.”

Greyback kept his face unreadable.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said softly.

* * *

“Barnaby mine, I think it’s time we had a little more fun. I’m sorry to have been neglecting you so these past few weeks. I was….indisposed.”

“I want to make a deal with you.”

Greyback nearly spit out his wine in surprise. Sputtering, he set his glass down on the vanity and approached Barnaby, who was sitting bound to the headboard with Mia tied up in his lap, asleep.

“You see,” Greyback said, smiling. “This is exactly why I don’t gag you every night, as much as the image pleases me. Because sometimes, I just _love_ to hear these crazy exclamations of yours. So tell me my little plaything—my precious _belle—_ what on God’s green Earth could you possibly think you have to bargain with?”

Greyback wished Barnaby would speak more, because it turns out his voice had a lovely... _simple_ quality to it. Like the boy was constantly in awe of the world around him, and near always on the verge of tears. Yes, this was a far sight better than the resigned, broken silence from before.

“I want you to let Mia go.”

“And…just why would I do that? Rodolphus alone would kill me, and not to mention that prick from the Minsitry.”

“Because you want to.”

Greyback pressed his lips together in a thin smile, trying to stifle his laughter.

“You’re not very experienced with making deals, are you, Lee?” he asked.

Barnaby cast his eyes to the ground for a moment, looking a bit dejected and confused. He seemed to steel himself, though, and the said bravely, “You don’t even need anything from me, I think you want to do it.”

At that, Greyback did laugh. Loudly. Barnaby bit his lip.

“Gods, no wonder your father didn’t put up a fight when we asked for you. You’re dumb enough to be a liability. Just what was that sorting hat thinking, putting you in Slytherin?” Greyback mused, squeezing the green sleeves of Barnaby’s robes between his fingers, admiring the small snake emblem stitched onto them. “Sneaky and cunning, eh?”

Barnaby’s eyes shimmered.

“My father knew you were coming?”

Greyback looked down at the teenager with pity. “No, Barnaby, your house’s wards were just that shit. Of _course_ he knew. And he was delighted. Thank god it wasn’t him I wanted revenge on because I could shag you until you break and he wouldn’t shed a tear! And I really don’t know any other way to go about getting my just desserts.”

Barnaby shifted out from under Mia, careful not to wake her. Greyback disconnected Barnaby from the headboard and led him to the high-backed chair by the fire. Greyback sat down comfortably with Barnaby at his feet.

“If you’re quiet enough,” he told the boy, who by this time was shaking with tears, albeit silently. “Then your little girlfriend won’t have to watch this time.”

Barnaby quivered, his sturdy shoulders shaking. Greyback admired Barnaby’s musculature. The boy probably wasn’t used to being so helpless when he was around his peers. But Barnaby clearly had plenty of experience with abuse from his own father, and all it took was the five years or so that separated Greyback and Barnaby age-wise for the latter to cower like a small child.

“I don’t know what to do,” Barnaby whispered.

“Learn,” said Greyback harshly. Those words hadn’t spared Barnaby yet.

After nervously glancing to his left to make sure Mia was still asleep after Greyback’s outburst, Barnaby slowly sank to his knees in front of the grand sitting chair, fidgeting nervously as Greyback freed himself from his trousers.

“Remember,” said Greyback, his fangs slipping out. “Anywhere you bite me, I will bite you right back.”

Barnaby fumbled around uselessly for a moment as he normally did. Eventually, Greyback took ahold of the Slytherin by his hair and simply took what he wanted. Barnaby gagged, his face contorting as Greyback tried vainly to shove his entire cock past the boy’s lips.

“Open your throat for me,” he growled.

Barnaby sputtered and fell back, gasping. “I—I don’t know how,” he pleaded. “It just...it won’t, I...”

Greyback rolled his eyes. A cold air chill swept uncomfortably over his spit-slicked cock and he angrily threw a hand towards the fireplace, turning the flame up five-fold before returning his glare onto the teenager at his feet.

“I suppose if you can’t take my come down your throat, you’ll just have to take it elsewhere.”

Greyback thoroughly enjoyed the lengthy journey the boy’s brain took to arrive at an understanding of the werewolf’s words. Barnaby’s skin glistened in the heat of the fire as he narrowed his eyebrows in confusion, thinking, until…

Then his eyes were wide and he leaped forward, pawing at Greyback’s cock like a kitten and trying desperately to take him down to the base. Greyback’s laughter mixed with a genuine howl of pleasure as Barnaby got most of the way to his goal.

“Easy, _easy_ , my beautiful.” Greyback summoned all his self control and pushed Barnaby away. “Too late,” he added with a smile. “I think I’ve made up my mind.”

Barnaby trembled.

“Oh come, now,” Greyback crooned. “We’ve done this before.”

Barnaby shook his head and wrapped his arms around his taut stomach. He was sweating, either from adrenaline or the roaring fire.

“Well, I mean _almost_ ,” Greyback conceded, remembering his first attempt a week prior. For all his bluff and bluster, Greyback hadn’t a clue what he’d been doing and had not prepared the boy properly. There’d been friction—oh, too much painful friction—and while he’d gotten a taste of what he’d wanted, he’d ultimately pulled out, never having made it more than halfway in and left the teenager to bleed into the sheets.

“Oh, but honey, don’t shy from me like that, I know _exactly_ what to do this time. It’ll be much better.” A cruel smiled spread over Greyback’s face and his fangs extended, almost to the full length they reached during the moonlight.

Barnaby’s eyes flitted over to Mia and Greyback raised an eyebrow.

“You’re right, we _should_ involve your little girlfriend. After all, if I apparently love her so much, as you say, then it would be a shame if we didn’t include her, no?”

Barnaby shook his head in abject horror.

“Tell you what,” said Greyback, standing up but not bothering to right his clothing. In fact, he tossed his shirt away entirely. Then he crawled onto the bed and hovered over Mia’s sleeping form, his cock just inches from her belly. “Why don’t you keep me...busy...and if you do a good enough job, maybe I won’t _need_ to do much more than—” he trailed a sharp finger down Mia’s throat, his growing claw tearing straight through her robes and exposing the pale skin underneath—“ _remind_ her of her last rendezvous.”

Barnaby bit his lip and actually twitched his weight downwards in a motion that, had he been standing would have been a petulant foot stomp.

“I’m waiting,” Greyback teased. Mia had jerked awake under his ministrations and he now had her by the throat. She was too scared to do much as he chucked her ruined clothing to the side until she lay beneath him in just the tattered remains of what was once probably a very cute set of matching yellow undergarments.

Then Barnaby was crawling next to him and—deliberately not looking at Mia—he contorted his body and pulled Greyback’s cock in between his soft lips.

“Good boy,” Greyback crooned. “Oh, Ms. Rosewell, so nice of you to join us. Your poor boy toy here has been very hard at work. Keeping me occupied, trying pitifully to bargain for you...you ought to thank him sometime.”

“Leave him out of this,” Mia said in a croaky whisper. Greyback could tell she hadn’t been speaking much lately—her sweet voice was practically rusting from lack of use. “If it’s me you want, just—”

Greyback laughed. “You’ve got it all backwards, sweetie, I couldn’t care less about Augustus Rookwood’s sloppy seconds.”

Mia blanched. Greyback raised a curious eyebrow.

“Really don’t like that name, do you?” he taunted. “Why? Don’t like to remember how he makes you beg him?”

Mia shuddered and squirmed beneath Greyback’s ministrations. They were an awkwardly arranged group, with Greyback hovering over the Hufflepuff girl and Barnaby’s head squeezed in between their hips, hard at work.

“Oh but of course, how could I have been so forgetful...last night it wasn’t ‘Augustus’, was it?” He leaned close and licked the shell of Mia’s ear. “Last night it was ‘daddy’, right?”

Mia shrieked and thrashed, succeeding in not much more than crashing Barnaby’s face up, forcing more of Greyback’s cock into him than he was prepared for. The poor boy gagged so hard he nearly dry heaved. To Greyback’s surprise, he didn’t even need to tell Barnaby to resume his awkward blowjob, He jumped right back to his task with fervor.

“How did you—” There was deep disgust in Mia’s voice.

“Mia, sweetie, the whole _house_ could hear you shrieking. I’m surprised you didn’t wake the dead! Disgusting, really, there are _children_ sleeping down the hall...”

Mia’s creamy skin had gone tomato read and she looked like she might die of shame.

“But don’t worry,” Greyback said silkily. “ _I_ certainly don’t have any such hangups with you. And as long as your little boyfriend continues to do the only thing he’s good for, you’ll be spared the embarrassment of having to explain to Rookwood that his pathetic performance doesn’t hold a candle to yours truly.”

Mia stared up at Greyback in disbelief, like she couldn’t imagine anyone could be so deranged.

“Let me see,” Greyback said pensively, trying his best to keep his voice calm. He didn’t want to let Barnaby know he was doing a good job...let the boy panic a little more.

“Let me see if I can piece together last night’s romantic evening just from the voices I heard. He kissed you, didn’t he?” Greyback licked a finger and swept it over Mia’s flushed lips. “Certainly muffled your shrieking for a moment. Oh, and the hair...” Greyback ran a finger through Mia’s long hair—now lank and dry but surely a beautiful bed of soft waves when she was properly groomed. “I bet he held you by your hair like a dog on a leash.”

Barnaby sputtered, but only briefly.

“Of course our dear friend Rookwood has never been patient, has he?” mused Greyback. “I bet he skewered himself right here—” he threw one, two, three fingers inside Mia in quick succession—“without any preparation.

“Foolish, really,” Greyback said wistfully. “You could really hurt someone that way...”

Beneath him Barnaby stilled and Greyback could tell he was crying, remembering their previous encounter and no doubt fearing the next.

Mia squirmed and mewled, but between Greyback’s grip and the combined weight of both the werewolf and Barnaby, she couldn’t much move.

“And you’re his ‘baby girl’, did he call you that?”

“Noooo,” Mia whined, but Greyback knew she was lying.

Greyback rubbed his finger back and forth, moving to an odd rhythm, twisting and scraping until he finally withdrew and chuckled. “Did he get you to come?” Greyback asked, his hand hovering tauntingly over Mia’s skin, brushing lightly, just barely… “I’m assuming not. Probably not ever,” Greyback laughed harshly and reared back to admire Mi’s flushed and shaking body. “I’m guessing he just left you like this every time, tired and hurting and oh-so-very sad.

“Does he remind you of your father?” Greyback withdrew from Barnaby’s hot mouth and crawled, catlike, to the top of the bed, where he reattached the loose bonds to Mia’s wrists. She curled up on herself, but otherwise didn’t resist, even when he slipped the gag back on her. “I know he’d like that. I highly doubt he worked so hard to have the man killed because he _enjoyed_ having him in the picture.”

The words were mostly a guess, but from the look on Mia’s face, Greyback could tell he’d struck gold.

Greyback yawned and lounged against the pillows. “Barnaby,” he crooned. “Be a dear and open the curtains, will you? There’s a delicious gibbous moon outside and I’d like to see it.”

Barnaby obeyed without hesitation, and Greyback didn’t even have to order him back to the bed, the boy came automatically.

“Thank you,” Greyback said sweetly, sitting up. “Now come here. I think it’s only fair that Mia gets a show, as well. After all, she’s been so good, putting up with that disgusting Ministry man all this time.”

Barnaby shook, but discarded his clothing regardless. He knew there was no fight to be had. Greyback appreciated how his smooth shoulders shook in the moonlight, how the searing fire cast dancing shadows down his side.

Greyback used lubrication this time, enough that he could finally get the evening he wanted. It was true, too that he didn’t want Barnaby cut up again so soon. No, Barnaby would bleed when and where Greyback wanted him to.

Mia had her eyes closed resolutely and Greyback didn’t stop her. After all, there was no shielding her ears from the croons and cries, nor the slap of Greyback’s thrusts, which only got more animalistic with time. Now that the moonlight was streaming over Greyback’s back and shoulders, Barnaby cast in shadow beneath him, it was as through he drew cruelty from the beams.

Yet he stilled his hands and his fangs. A part of him wanted to mark Barnaby up, at least as badly as he had marked Regulus Black. He wanted to bite deeper, crush the arteries in his neck and ride out his climax while the boy’s death convulsions took him…

But he didn’t. Because he only partly wanted it. Another part of him wanted to keep Barnaby forever. Wanted to train him and care for him, like a pet.

Greyback shuddered through his urges and managed to keep Barnaby in one piece, physically if not mentally. The boy was babbling nonsense at this point, his voice slightly muffled by the pillow, but Greyback could hear his pleas just fine.

“Kill you? No...no not now. Barnaby, you foolish boy. Haven’t you ever heard of _savoring_ what you enjoy? Taking one slow bite at a time, drawing it out?” Greyback laughed, although it was strained as he tried to stave off his orgasm a little longer. “Or do you simply scarf down your dinner each night like some sort of...mongrel?”

Barnaby keened as Greyback bottomed out in him one last time. Beside them, just inches away, Mia shuddered in sympathy.

Greyback lay there for a moment, poised just millimeters above the twitching muscles of Barnaby’s back. Sweat dripped off him and landed on the boy, pooling in the hollows of his spine. Greyback panted as quietly as he could before finally sliding out and rolling off of the boy. Barnaby turned his face slightly to look at the man almost shyly, and with a definite note of fear in his shimmering eyes.

“Oh don’t be so frantic,” Greyback said, reaching out a hand to pat roughly at Barnaby’s forehead, mussing his sweaty fringe even further. “As fun as it would be to keep going, and— _paint you white all over—_ I’m more in the mood to lounge for a bit. So why don’t you come here, that’s it...lay down.”

Barnaby crawled cautiously to Greyback’s side of the bed and curled up against his side. His breath was far from relaxed, and at the slightest shifting from Greyback, the boy twitched.

“Stay right there. Can I trust you, Barnaby? You know you can’t leave this house via door or floo network without the wards going down, so I trust you wouldn’t be so fool as to try and run just because I nodded off?”

Barnaby didn’t answer, but Greyback knew he was too scared to run. His classmate on the other hand…

“Rosewell,” Greyback barked. Mia jerked her eyes open and glared at him. Greyback reached on arm lazily towards the nightstand and grabbed his wand, which he swept in a wide arc, freeing her hands.

“You see that window over there? The one dear Barnaby pulled the curtains from?”

Mia sat up cautiously but didn’t speak.

“Well it’s actually unwarded.”

Mia’s eyes widened and she slid slowly off the bed.

“I can fix it,” Greyback said, pointing his wand at the window lazily. “Just as easily as I damaged it earlier today...”

Mia took one shaky step forward. She wrapped her ruined robes around her shoulders and padded over towards the window cautiously on bare feet, throwing her gag to the floor as she went.

“But I find that I am tired,” Greyback admitted. “And I would rather relax for a moment or two...gather up my strength before I fix Rodolphus Lestrange’s wards. It’s always such a pain to adjust them without the man noticing.”

Mia bit her lip and panted heavily.

“Do remember dear Barnaby in your nightly prayers because without his suggestion I may never have realized what a golden opportunity I had in you, there...Oh, and Rosewell?” Greyback said, tightening his hold on Barnaby and closing his eyes. “Do be a touch careful. We are a story or two up from the ground here.”

In an instant, Mia was gone, the window latch yanked free. The last Greyback saw of her was a snag of ruined yellow robes before she slid clumsily down the back side of the manor. With his heightened hearing, he heard her hit the ground and then after a pained paused, she was running. Greyback shrugged his shoulders and shut the window with another wave of his wand, muttering the incantations that would ward it up tight once again. Barnaby shook beside him.

“You got what you want, you silly boy, I hope this indulgence doesn’t make you greedy.”

* * *

Rookwood returned in the morning, and it was to find a sated and preening Greyback strewn out over the bed, Barnaby curled up— _unrestrained—_ at his side.

Rookwood raised a delicately sculpted eyebrow before loudly yelling, “Where is she?”

Greyback pretended to jolt awake, startled. “Why Augustus, I wasn’t expecting _you_ until tomorrow.”

“Cut the pleasantries, wolf, and tell me what you’ve done with the other one?”

“Hm? Oh, the Rosewell girl?”

“Yes the Rosewell girl, you idiot. Don’t tell me she escaped?” There was a definite note of panic in Rookwood’s voice.

“Escaped?” Greyback asked in mock confusion. He sat up and stretched. “You think some brat kid is going to escape from me? No, no no, I let her go.”

For a moment Rookwood stood utterly shocked. He recovered quickly, though and when he did it was with his wand in his hand and a curse on his lips.

Greyback didn’t even flinch. Rookwood, rattled as he was, had missed and exploded the lamp on the nightstand. A few hot metallic pieces had showered over Greyback and Barnaby and while Greyback only smiled, Barnaby shrieked and pawed at his arms and face.

Greyback slid off the bed, still gloriously naked, and twirled his own wand between his fingers.

“Were you looking for a fight, Rookwood?” he asked sweetly.

“Greyback, I swear to god, you had better be lying to me.”

“Nope,” said Greyback lightly. “She’s gone. Right out the window.” He pointed behind him. “I’d say start running if you want to catch her, but I’m sure she’s halfway to London by now with how fast she was scrambling last night.”

Rookwood leaped forward and so did Greyback. Before the taller man could even raise his wand, Greyback had his wrist in a death grip, squeezing hard enough to threaten cracking the bone. Rookwood cried out in rage and thrashed.

“Didn’t your mummy and daddy ever tell you to keep your distance from werewolves?” Greyback asked mockingly. “We can be quite strong—” he dropped his own wand and instead took ahold of Rookwood by the throat with his free hand—“when you let us get ahold of you.”

“Fenrir!”

Greyback squeezed deliciously on Rookwood’s throat one last time before throwing him to the ground with a surge of strength that surprised even the werewolf. Turning to the doorway, he saw Rodolphus Lestrange, accompanied by both Regulus Black and Rabastan, both of whom had undoubtedly been told to return to their rooms only to ignore the orders.

“Oh, hi Rodolphus. You’re up early.”

“It’s noon,” Rodolphus deadpanned. He swept into the bedroom and eyed Greyback critically. “Put your clothes on,” he insisted. Greyback rolled his eyes but complied.

“Lestrange,” gasped Rookwood, standing back up and scrambling for his wand, which he thankfully did not raise. “This lunatic let the Rosewell girl go! Who knows where she’s at by now. If she’s been found, then...”

“Yes,” said Rodolphus patronizingly. “If the Rosewell girl ends up spilling her guts to the world then everyone will know what a filthy degenerate you are, our hideout will be compromised and half—if not all—of us will be rotting in Azkaban by dinnertime.”

Rookwood stared at Rodolphus for a moment before pointing again to Greyback, although he seemed too angry to form words, until—“I’ll kill him!” he yelled. “I’ll string his guts over the banister. I _knew_ we could not trust—”

Greyback leaped again and this time he didn’t hold back. He tore at Rookwood in a bloody frenzy, soaking the carpet, the wall and his own face and hands in the other man’s blood—as well as some of his own.

Almost lazily, Rodolphus pulled him off the other Death Eater. Rookwood was bleeding profusely but not seriously injured. Yet for the first time he looked a little...scared, and Greyback liked that. He could feel his cock rising to life again and wished he were still naked enough for Rookwood to notice. He licked his bloody lips and smiled. Of course, perhaps the man had noticed as they’d tussled on the floor…

Rodolphus, still oddly calm, restrained Greyback by the shoulders and pulled him back from Rookwood, who was standing up shakily.

“Why are you not upset?” Rookwood demanded of his fellow Death Eater. “You are just as fucked as I am!”

Rodolphus rolled his eyes. From the corner of his vision, Greyback saw Regulus and Rabastan staring open mouthed at the scene before them. Regulus was shaking a little, likely an unconscious response to seeing Greyback’s attack. Rabastan had laid a soothing hand over the other boy’s wrist, partly comforting him, and partly holding him in place.

From the bed, Greyback could see Barnaby doing his best to remain small and unnoticed, clearly hoping to not become collateral damage in this fight. Greyback winked at the boy.

“Rookwood just how stupid do you think I am?” Rodolphus took ahold of Greyback by the neck when he tried to shake free of the other man’s grip. Rodolphus wasn’t physically strong enough to actually restrain the werewolf, but he could do so psychologically. Greyback had made his point to Rookwood and was content to let the Lestrange heir take charge of the situation. He was, after all an ally to these people—not to Rookwood, no, but to the Death Eaters in general, and it wouldn’t do to upset Rodolphus Lestrange further.

Greyback cast a curious look towards Rodolphus as the man sighed in exasperation.

“Do you really think I was going to let either of those brats sneak out of my house, with or without Fenrir’s help?”

Rookwood threw him a questioning look. “So, the girl…?”

“Oh, I caught her before she was within a mile of the property line.”

Rookwood visibly relaxed. “So she’s here still?”

“No,” said Rodolphus simply. “I let her go, but not before pitching such a strong memory modification at her that I’m honestly surprised she was able to get back up and keep running.

“You’re fine, Rookwood,” Rodolphus continued. “She’s probably staggering up to some stranger on the road right now with a quite believable tale about how an unknown, masked man took her captive in the night, right from her friend’s house. She never saw his face, of course,” Rodolphus eyed Rookwood’s tall stature. “But she remembers him being quite...short.”

Rookwood’s breathing was slowing down a bit. He looked directly at Greyback, whose mouth was open in shock and disappointment.

“So,” said Rodolphus, shaking Greyback by his scruff. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Wolfy, but you _won’t_ be getting any leg up in this ridiculous pissing contest you’ve started with Augustus. And I expect this to be the end of it.”

Rookwood was shaking his head in amazement. “What were you thinking, you absolute moron?” he demanded of Greyback. “You would have been indicted, too! Even if the Ministry hadn’t taken you, the Dark Lord would have! He still _might_ after I tell him about all this!”

Greyback bared his teeth and his fangs came out to play once more. “Read my lips, Rookwood,” he hissed. “Do I look like I care?”

Rookwood took a step back, sheer disbelief and horror on his face. He raised a hand to his still-bleeding neck and continued to stare at Greyback as though the man were truly insane. Greyback smiled. He had spoken the truth. He truly hadn’t cared. If the Dark Lord had come down on him in retribution he might have regretted his actions then—but in the moment he’d decided to let Mia go free, he’d thought only of how it would hurt Rookwood. And all he had wanted was for the man to know that.

Rodolphus shook Greyback roughly and said, “enough. Both of you. No one is telling the Dark Lord anything except that the Rosewell girl was released with false memories _as planned_ to lead Ministry officials on a wild goose chase. Rookwood, I’m sure you’re about to be called into work given the...state of things. So kindly get out of my house. Rabastan, Regulus, _get out_ before I tan both of you.”

The two teenagers left begrudgingly, muttering conspiratorially to each other as they took off down the hall. Rookwood glanced one more time at Greyback before heading to the bathroom to clean himself up before returning to the Ministry.

Once alone with Barnaby and Greyback, Rodolphus finally released his hold on the werewolf. He looked resignedly at his shattered bedside lamp and with a careful wave of his wand, cleaned up the pieces. He noted with distaste the burned marks on his bedspread.

Greyback watched Rodolphus finish tidying up, including tying Barnaby back up to the bedpost with a glare in Greyback’s direction.

“This one is dead, by the way,” he said coldly.

“What?” Greyback asked sharply.

Rodolphus shook his head. “In the Mia girl’s memories. This one—” he jerked his head towards Barnaby, who was now positively shaking with terror—“died during the initial kidnapping.”

“Oh,” said Greyback in understanding. “So they won’t be looking for him anymore?”

“Oh I’m sure they’ll make a show of trying to recover his corpse for his poor _grieving_ father, but no...there won’t be any search parties. That is...unless you decide you want there to be.”

Greyback smiled. So he was now in complete control of the timeline. He could keep Barnaby all to himself until the moment he decided he _wanted_ to lure that bastard uncle of his in. It was an amazing amount of freedom.

“Rodolphus,” asked Greyback cautiously. “I’m sure you were...very thorough, but aren’t memory charms...well...noticeable?”

Rodolphus nodded.

“And...breakable?”

Rodolphus nodded again.

“So, what if…? I mean, surely your Dark Lord will not be content with a simple obliviate or two?”

“Have you ever broken a memory charm, Wolfy?”

“No,” said Greyback grumpily.

“Precisely,” said Rodolphus, running a carefree hand over Barnaby’s shaking shoulder. “It’s an advanced form of deductive magic, very few people are trained to do it.”

Greyback still wasn’t convinced. “The Ministry has a team, don’t they? Of memory experts?”

“Of course, and they’ll be interviewing miss Mia Rosewell before the sun goes down.” There was a sort of whimsy to Rodolphus’s voice that betrayed how much he was enjoying this conversation. Greyback stared at the man, jealous of the aristocrat’s composure as he stood regally by the fireplace in his pristine robes and perfect hair.

“So they’ll know...they’ll know everything..?”

Rodolphus chuckled. “They might have a hunch.”

“And you’re not worried about this?”

Between them, Barnaby’s eyes were darting back and forth as he gauged his chances of being rescued.

“I don’t think their department leader is going to be too keen on indicting us.”

“Why?” Greyback asked dumbly

“Wolfy,” Rodolphus said with a small shake of his head. “Did you think our dear Augustus Rookwood spends his weekdays at the ministry for _fun_?”

Greyback’s eyes narrowed as a mixture of relief and disappointment washed over him.

“Oh, cheer up, friend,” Rodolphus said without a shred of sincerity. He clapped Greyback on the shoulder and cocked his head in Barnaby’s general direction. “Enjoy your toy while you still have some self control. If you need me, don’t, because I have much to attend to today, and absolutely none of it needs to involve you.”

Rodolphus swept from the room, leaving Greyback alone with Barnaby, but not before hollering one last ultimatum over his shoulder.

“Oh, and Fenrir, this whole ‘constantly cleaning up after your fuck ups’ charade had best not become a regular thing. We’ve gotten along just fine without you until now, and Lord knows we can take this world without you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell that Regulus creeps into my stories everywhere, even commissions where he wasn’t invited? My obsession runs deep… :0
> 
> Hit me up if you're interested in your own commission, though I can't promise it'll be Regulus-free <3 
> 
> My Kofi is here: https://ko-fi.com/tenrousei_kuroi


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